


Hormones

by dirtydeedsdonedirtcheap



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 20:03:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10883961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtydeedsdonedirtcheap/pseuds/dirtydeedsdonedirtcheap
Summary: Harry gives 'the talk' to James.





	Hormones

Harry yawned as he flipped another page in his book. He had been reading for over an hour now. The words were starting to blur together but a day off from work meant he could relax and engage in any _shenanigans_ he normally didn’t have time for.

 

The kids were downstairs and preoccupied with whatever game they had created for the day. His wife lay curled up next to him jotting down notes as she read from her own book, struggling to write an article about something or other.

 

He tilted his head and gave Ginny a once over. Her long red hair was tied up in a messy bun. Her forehead was creased and her nose wrinkled slightly as she mumbled to herself. She was wearing a baggy t-shirt and blue striped pajama bottoms that belonged to Harry. Even after all these years Harry thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

 

“God, you’re beautiful,” he said, trying to sneakily grab her feathered green quill.

 

Ginny rolled her eyes in response. Compliments meant he had one thing on his mind and one thing only.

 

“I mean it,” he said with a lopsided grin. He snatched her quill and threw it to the side. Her book quickly followed. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. This hair,” he reached out and touched a few strands of her messy red hair. “These cheeks,” his fingers caressed her face lovingly. “And these lips.” Harry leaned in and kissed her softly as his hands found the hem of her white t-shirt.

 

Ginny laughed and then groaned inwardly, her cheeks coloring slightly.

 

“Harry, I have to start fixing dinner in twenty minutes. We don’t have time for this.”

 

His hands traveled up her shirt slowly as he kissed her neck. She shivered at his touch and made no moves to push him away.

 

“I only need ten,” he whispered in her ear.

 

It wasn’t something to brag about but Harry learned after becoming a parent sex becomes somewhat of an anomaly. You have to learn the most efficient way to have it and then cut that time down in half. Foreplay, he learned, was for newlyweds still stuck in that fog of marital bliss, which disappeared during the first night of nappy changes and screaming colicky lungs.

 

It had been a little over a week since they were last intimate due to the kids being home from school for the summer. There were so many day trips, family festivities and fights between siblings they had to referee alone time was nonexistent.

 

Ginny grinned and coyly nodded her head in agreement. Harry didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled his white t-shirt up and over his head and quickly unbuckled his trousers, more than ready to go in for the kill.

 

He pulled her pants down in one quick motion and was already on top of her and kissing her chest as the bedroom door creaked opened. The sound made the two of them jump and crane their necks to see what exactly interrupted them.

 

Their mouths hung open in horror and their cheeks reddened as they stared at their eldest son, James, in the doorway. He stood there silently, eyes wide open and hands up in the air as if to say, ‘I surrender.’

 

All three remained still until James shakily turned on his heel and ran back down the corridor from where he came from.

 

* * *

 

 

Dinner was awkward. Albus and Lily were unaware of the event that had unfolded nearly an hour before. They tittered on and on about their day while James stared at his food and moved his chicken around his plate with his fork, unable to eat anything.

 

Harry was so nervous at the thought of facing his son he could barely eat his own supper. His hand shook so violently peas kept flying off of his fork. One nearly hit Albus in the eye. Ginny, much to his dismay, had no problem keeping her cool throughout the entire meal.

 

Now, Harry paced back and forth in their bedroom with the door locked while his wife was getting ready for bed. He wouldn’t even sneak a glance at her while she undressed like he normally did. He was too ashamed.

 

“Harry, you’re going to wear out our rug.”

 

He halted his pacing for a moment to examine the lilac colored rug underneath his feet that looked somewhat worn now thanks to him.

 

“I’ll buy a new one,” he said, resuming his pacing.

 

Ginny sighed and climbed into bed, snuggling under their matching lilac duvet.

 

“Would you just calm down?”

 

Hysterically, Harry threw his hands in the air and then started to pull at his messy hair.

 

“We’re horrible parents,” he cried. “The worst parents imaginable. Our son saw us in _heat_.”

 

Ginny crossed her arms against her chest from her spot in bed.

 

“Well, he really saw you more than me…and more of your behind than anything.”

 

Harry groaned and hung his head in his hands. “My pants were around my ankles!” he cried.

 

“Merlin,” Ginny said with a whistle, “he’s going to think that’s how you’re supposed to have intercourse. Half dressed with your socks on.”

 

Harry glared at her, green eyes shining. “I told you, my feet get cold.”

 

Ginny snorted and waved her hand in the air as if to dismiss him.

 

“He’ll get over it. By tomorrow morning something new will have his attention.”

 

He stared at her, unconvinced. “Did you ever walk in on your parents?”

 

“Heavens no!” she shouted, horrified. “We were told to always knock if their door was closed, which wasn’t very often now that I think about it. They had to keep an eye on Fred and George. They were constantly wreaking havoc at night. Look, if you’re that broken up about it go talk to him and tell him he should really knock next time.”

 

Next time? _Next_ time? Like hell there was going to be a next time.

 

“What the hell do I even say to him?”

 

Ginny pondered his question for several minutes before responding.

 

“That sex is a perfectly natural thing that happens between two loving and responsible adults. I don’t know, you read the parenting books,” she said with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

 

She tossed and turned in their bed, trying to make herself more comfortable. Harry gaped at her. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

 

“My son is fifteen. He shouldn’t know anything about sex.”

 

Ginny sat up, suddenly alert, and stared directly at her husband with a horrified look on her face. “Haven’t you had the talk with him yet?”

 

Harry shook his head vigorously. “The talk? Are you daft?”

 

She groaned. “Harry, he’s _fifteen_. You need to have the talk with him.”

 

Harry suddenly felt very tired and very old. His son was fifteen, much too young for sex. When he was his age he was fighting to stay alive. He was too busy doing other things like heading Dumbledore’s Army, dodging Umbridge and kissing Cho Chang. The last part wasn’t important because sex wasn’t on his mind! He could barely handle snogging, let alone a little innocent kiss like the one they had shared.

 

“You have the talk with him,” he murmured.

 

Ginny sighed tiredly and stretched in bed, trying to make herself comfortable once again.

 

“I get the girl.”

 

Harry glared at her. “You mean I have to do this twice?” he said with horror.

 

“You wanted to have more than one child,” she responded icily.

 

Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. First James and then Albus? He survived Voldemort’s reign of terror to have his life ended by his children and their growing hormones.

 

“As I recall I didn’t get any complaints out of you during all the long nights we spent _trying_ ,” he responded hotly.

 

If he was in his right mind he would have stopped to recall the nights, mornings and afternoon delights.

 

“Nor I from you,” she said. Her voice was filled with a dangerous tone that Harry tried his hardest to steer clear of. “You’re going to have to talk to him eventually. He won’t want his mother to speak to him. Didn’t your Uncle sit down and have a talk with you?”

 

Harry couldn’t help himself. He laughed from his spot on the rug. Vernon Dursley give him the talk? That would have been _priceless_.

 

“About how much of a nuisance I was!” he snapped, a wild fire in his eyes. “Do you really think Vernon Dursley sat down with his _freak_ nephew and talked about intercourse with him?”

 

Ginny flinched. Harry was still extremely sensitive about his upbringing. She knew it was a low blow but she was starting to feel sleepy.

 

“Well…” she whispered, unsure.

 

Harry started pacing quicker than before. He pumped his arms up and down as he walked, trying to get some of his frustration out.

 

“Ginny, the man probably thinks we cast a spell with our wands at the belly and our children are just created that way.”

 

“Alright,” she said exasperated. “Maybe you should talk to another man about this. You need to experience it as well. I don’t know Harry. All I want to do is sleep,” she groaned.

 

Harry halted at the foot of their bed and gaped at her. “How can you sleep at a time like this? Our household is in shambles!”

 

Ginny smacked herself in the face and groaned loudly in frustration.

 

“Have a kid with Harry, they said. It’ll be great, they said. How did you learn about sex then?”

 

He stared at her and mulled over her question quietly in his head.

 

“Well, I mean…I just knew.”

 

She wrinkled her nose and arched her eyebrow in disbelief. “You just knew? No one just _knows_.”

 

He shrugged. “I’m the boy who lived. I _know_ things.”

 

Ginny snorted in mild amusement. “What, you learned about it from Voldemort?”

 

Harry glowered at her. “No! There was no talk for me. I just had urges that I had to learn to deal with and learn about on my own.”

 

He wasn’t going to tell her the truth. Harry was a lot of things but dumb wasn’t one of them. His wife didn’t need to know he learned about sex after he started to feel particular urges in his nether region after thinking about Cho Chang. Harry suddenly felt very hot as he recalled just how much he used to think about Cho and what she had hidden underneath her fitted school uniform.

 

“Harry, calm down. You’re as red as a tomato. I’m only joking. Look, if you’re that worked up about it maybe you should ask Ron what he’s said to Hugo,” Ginny suggested warmly.

 

Harry grumbled under his breath at her suggestion. As if he needed the entire Weasley family to be involved in this.

 

“That’s embarrassing. Hermione will get involved. You and I both know it.” Ginny nodded in agreement. “You know Ron can’t keep anything to himself. The both of them…one drink in and they start singing secrets.”

 

Ginny groaned and blushed a deep shade of red. “I apologized for that profusely.”

 

Harry glared at her. “My feet get really cold during sex. They’re like icicles. It’s unfair to be made fun of about it when I’m doing you a favor.”

 

He shuddered at the memory of Hermione barreling towards him and Ron with a margarita in her hand, brown eyes filled with mischief, as she loudly told his personal secret to her husband—and everyone else around them.

 

“Hermione and alcohol don’t mix,” she said sheepishly.

 

“The haiku she made…”

 

Ginny groaned and grabbed the pillow that was next to her, placing it on top of her face.

 

“Harry,” her voice was muffled from the pillow, “go to bed.”

 

He stomped his feet like a child and crossed his arms against his chest.

 

“I can’t sleep,” he argued. “I’ll never sleep again. I’ve stolen his innocence.”

 

“Sleep downstairs,” Ginny said flatly.

 

Harry gaped at her pillow head. They never slept apart. Not unless he was out late for work and he was heading in when she was waking up.

 

“Oi!” he exclaimed. “That’ll get the kids talking. I’ll be giving the sex talk to all of them.”

 

“There will never be anymore sex in this household if you don’t shut your gob. Goodnight, Potter.”

 

Harry said nothing. Defeated, he walked towards the bedroom door but halted as his hand reached the knob, turning back towards their bed. Ginny made no sign of moving underneath his pillow.

 

“Yes, yes, alright then. Don’t need to make unwarranted threats. Goodnight, dear.”

 

* * *

 

 

Harry was so distraught he couldn’t sleep. He spent the entire night pacing his study and forlornly staring at photographs of his parents.

 

He wanted a Potter man to talk too. Harry had often wondered what sort of advice his father would have given him. Would he have sat him down and given him the talk? Had his grandfather talked to his Dad?

 

His frustration level high, Harry decided he would take Ginny’s advice and headed down the street towards Ron and Hermione’s house.

 

The sun had barely risen as he opened the gate to their home. He knew even though it was early Ron would be up. He had a penchant for waking up early in order to have breakfast with his wife, who had to be at the Ministry at an ungodly hour.

 

Harry stood outside their red front door, fist in the air, ready to knock when the door swung open. He staggered back a few steps, completely caught off guard. Ron was standing in the doorway with a big grin on his face.

 

“Harry! I thought you weren’t coming round until later,” he said cheerily.

 

Harry wasn’t sure if it was because he was so exhausted but Ron sounded oddly chipper, even for himself. He stared at his brother-in-law uneasily.

 

“Yeah, well, surprise.”

 

Ron peered at him, giving him a quizzical look. “Your left eye is twitching,” he said happily. “What’s wrong? Did you get into it with Ginny?”

 

Ron knew unless he had to work, Harry wasn’t an early riser. Sleeping in was a luxury that Harry enjoyed.

 

“Not exactly,” he said sheepishly, suddenly nervous once again. “I mean…is it hot in here?”

 

“We’re outside. We’d have to be inside for it to be hot in…oh, never mind,” he snapped. After all these years Ron was used to Harry’s odd behavior. “Should I get Hermione for this? She’s better at the advice thing than I am. We both know that!”

 

“Ron—“

 

Harry wasn’t quite sure why Ron was shouting and enunciating every other word he uttered.

 

“I mean,” Ron shouted loudly, “I do give _great_ advice but I don’t hold a candle to her. My wife is _amazing_.” He stopped for a beat before whispering, “Was that loud enough? Was that convincing? We just had a bit of a row.”

 

Harry suddenly felt very uncomfortable. His throat felt dry and beads of sweat were starting to form on his neck.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can just…”

 

Ron smacked him on the back and started to push Harry towards his backyard.

 

“Come on mate, you just saved me. I hesitated when she asked me if she looked wide in her new yellow suit. A yellow suit, good lord, looks like a banana. She caught me off guard! It wasn’t my fault.”

 

Harry wasn’t sure what to say because he had problems of his own.

 

“Ron, I should be off.”

 

His brother-in-law gave him a quizzical look. “Alright, you have my attention. What’s going on?”

 

Harry felt stuck. He wasn’t sure if he should confide in his friend or run off in the other direction. He really hadn’t thought this through. Did he want to talk to Ron about his sex life with his little sister? Harry didn’t exactly lend his ear to Ron to hear about the illicit details of his and Hermione’s relationship.

 

“You know,” he said slowly, “I never had a Dad.”

 

Ron looked at him perplexed. He bit his bottom lip and then sighed in frustration.

 

“Harry, not to sound insensitive but _my_ Dad is sort of like your dad. He always says you can talk to him about anything and he treats you like one of his own. I think we’ve done quite a good job at sharing him with you.”

 

Harry felt he should apologize profusely but he couldn’t get the words out. He didn’t want to lose focus on the conversation that needed to be had.

 

“Ron, this has nothing…” He stopped and tried to start over, “Ron, I walk to talk to you about sex.”

 

Ron blubbered his lips and turned red at the ‘s’ word.

 

“What about sex?”

 

Harry inhaled and exhaled slowly.

 

“I have this friend.”

 

Ron wrinkled his nose. “Is it Neville?”

 

“Ron,” Harry snarled, “this friend wants to remain anonymous.”

 

His brother-in-law shrugged his shoulders, unconvinced. “I bet it’s Neville. Is he having intimacy problems with Hannah? She tends to walk a little funny, doesn’t she?” He mused. “I always thought he was giving her a good—“

 

Harry yelped in surprise. “Ron! Good lord. Would you just listen? It’s not Neville. It’s not anyone you know—“

 

Ron cut him off quickly, “But I _know_ all of your friends. Is it Dean?”

 

Harry groaned in frustration. Getting Ron to concentrate proved harder throughout the years. Harry sometimes wondered if one too many explosions at the joke shop was starting to mess with his head.

 

“Ron—“

 

“Because I’m perfectly comfortable talking about homosexuality and I do have some burning questions of my own about Dean and Seamus.”

 

“Ron,” Harry snapped. He was really starting to sweat now. He could feel the pit stains forming on his grey t-shirt. “I just need you to focus. This friend, that you _don’t_ know, has to have the talk with his son.”

 

Ron stared at him in confusion. “The talk?” he questioned.

 

“The _talk_ ,” Harry said slowly.

 

He watched as his blue eyes shined, signaling he finally understood what Harry was talking about.

 

“About?”

 

Well, maybe not.

 

“Sex! Follow along!”

 

“Ah,” Ron proclaimed. “ _The_ talk. Well, I guess it’s not Neville then because he doesn’t have a son and neither do Dean or Seamus.”

 

Harry fought the sudden urge to scream and grab his best friend by the shoulders and shake him violently. He would later suggest to his wife that her brother get his head checked.

 

“Who cares who it is?”

 

Ron stared at him like the answer to the question was obvious. “When I talk about to his with Hermione later I want to make sure I relay all the important parts.”

 

Harry gaped at him. He felt his heart stop in his chest. He was definitely going to have a heart attack if he kept talking with his friend for much longer.

 

“Why do you have to tell her about this?”

 

“Because she’s my wife,” he grumbled. “Besides, we have a sex agreement.”

 

Harry arched a bushy eyebrow. “A sex agreement?” It all sounded very dirty and wrong to his ears.

 

“A _sexment_ if you will. I came up with that. I know, I’m a genius,” he said with a laugh. “Anything related to sex we have to discuss. I think she’s just afraid as the fun parent in the house the kids will go to me for everything, both good and bad, including sex. Though I obviously don’t have to worry about the talk anytime soon.”

 

Harry was reeling. A breeze rolled by and he momentarily reveled in it. His head was pounding, a clear sign there was a migraine in his future.

 

“You don’t?”

 

Ron shook his head, completely flabbergasted. “Are you kidding me? Hugo thinks the only girl out there for him is his mother and Rose isn’t allowed to ever have sex.”

 

Though he was sure the second part of his argument wouldn’t work for him in the long run, Harry admired the fact that Ron had clearly thought about his children and their impending sex lives.

 

“Alright, but let’s say they’re a bit older. The talk needs to happen, does it not?”

 

Ron squeezed his chin with his fingers and mulled over Harry’s question, deep in thought. His eyebrows knitted together as he tried to come up with the perfect answer.

 

“Well, my dad tried to give me the talk once. It was all very confusing from what I can remember. He kept talking about a car because that’s when he had started to learn all about them. He said driving a car wasn’t that different from having sex with a woman,” he said slowly, trying to recall what exactly his father had said to him. Harry held his breath in anticipation. “You had to make sure they both went _vroom, vroom_. I didn’t understand what he meant until we were driving out of the Forbidden Forest, away from Aragog.”

 

Harry found his entire story unsettling. He also felt extremely uncomfortable, a memory he once looked back as funny was now tainted due to Ron’s hormones. Though the story did finally explain why he was so damn attached to that car.

 

“R-Right,” Harry stuttered.

 

Ron ignored him and continued to talk, eyes glassy, lost in another memory from the past.

 

“And then there was Aunt Muriel who caught me polishing the old broomstick.”

 

Harry stared at him silently.

 

“You know,” he said, at Harry’s silence, “beating the ol’ bludger bat around if you know what I mean.”

 

Harry squirmed under his gaze and sullenly replied, “I _always_ know what you mean.”

 

At that, Harry turned on his heel without so much as a goodbye and started to make the trek back towards his house. Ron, Harry thought, was completely and utterly useless.

 

* * *

 

 

Feeling defeated, confused and slightly hungry, Harry found himself standing at the doorstep of Dudley Dursley with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. What could have possessed him to reach out to his cousin was beyond Harry. He figured, later on in the day, it was because he still had a yearning to talk to a blood relative and Dudley was the only option.

 

He knocked on his maroon front door three times, hopping from foot to foot, waiting impatiently for a response. It was still relatively early. Harry wondered if his cousin was even up at this time of the day.

 

The door opened slowly and a young woman yawned, giving Harry a startled look, and adjusted her silk pink robe.

 

“Harry, is everything alright?” she questioned with concern.

 

He couldn’t help but blush and automatically started to feel terrible for arriving unannounced. Sundays’ were meant for lie ins, breakfast at noon and watching cartoons. At least, that’s how Dudley used to spend his when they were children. Harry spent his mornings cooking his cousin his breakfast.

 

“Uh, good morning Elodie. Sorry for stopping by unannounced. I was hoping to speak to Dudley. I—it’s rather important.”

 

Important was subjective. Ginny would have defined important as a death of a family member, an emergency hospital visit or the annual sale at WWW.

 

Dudley’s wife was a plain woman who thankfully liked Harry. She said her life had little excitement so she enjoyed hearing all of his half-true stories about being a ‘detective.’

 

Elodie yawned again and tiredly rubbed her brown eyes with her fist but nonetheless she stepped aside to let Harry in.

 

“He’s in his study,” she said as she led the way down the corridor. “Dudley has been working nonstop to finish up some important paperwork for this quarter.” She stopped at a closed door, knocking her small fist against it. “Dear, your cousin is here to see you.”

 

The door opened in a flourish. Harry awkwardly waved at his cousin who was staring at him with worry. The relationship between the two had mended somewhat over the years. Though Harry felt he would never be fully comfortable around Dudley. He found he was always sweating profusely around his cousin, afraid something was going to go awry. Dudley, on his part, shook around him. They had made it an unspoken rule to meet in neutral locations. Their houses typically weren’t included in that.

 

“Err, Harry. It’s early.”

 

It was early. If anyone had shown up at his doorstep this early Ginny would have cursed them into next Thursday in her plush pink bathrobe and bunny slippers.

 

Harry didn’t find it odd his cousin didn’t even greet him hello. He waved him inside his study and quietly closed the door behind him, pausing for a moment, and locking the door as an after thought.

 

He looked around the room, examining the pictures of his nieces, the piles of papers that littered Dudley’s desk and floor, and took a tentative seat in a leather chair.

 

“Right. Sorry,” he said earnestly. “I should be going.”

 

Dudley stared blankly at him. “You just got here.”

 

Harry nodded in agreement and slunk further into his chair. “Right, sorry,” he said again. “Don’t worry, the ol’ tree branch is tucked away safely.”

 

His cousin took a seat across from him. He pursed his lips and crossed his arms against his chest. Harry hadn’t seen Dudley in three months. He looked tired and plumper than last time. His cousin always moaned about his weight struggles. He said it was an ongoing battle.

 

“Well?” Dudley questioned, waiting for Harry to get to the reason why he was there.

 

“Well, nice weather we’ve been having lately,” he said lamely.

 

“Harry, what is wrong?” Dudley questioned slowly.

 

Harry tapped his fingertips on the side of his chair. Something inside of him was telling him to run away quickly and never look back. He ignored his instinct.

 

“Wrong wouldn’t be the correct word. I…how do I say this?” he was fumbling over his words and looking everywhere but at his cousin. “You’re a parent, right?”

 

Dudley stared at him blankly. “You’ve met my children. You’ve gone to their birthday dinners. You know my life. You’re sitting in my study staring at a picture of them right now. Has the magic finally gone to your head and addled your brains?”

 

Harry felt the heat rise in his cheeks. Those Dursley’s really knew how to lay it on thick. He was indeed staring at a still photo of two blonde haired little girls on swings.

 

“What I mean to say is, you have parented before, have you not?” he asked with a slight edge of fear in his voice.

 

“I really do not understand where you are going with this,” Dudley said flatly.

 

“It’s just sometimes things happen that you have to explain. You know, like death.”

 

Dudley’s brown eyes flashed with worry. He leaned forward in his chair and stared directly at Harry.

 

“Has someone in your family died?”

 

Harry jumped and waved his hand in the air in protest. “Well, no.” But he felt like he was about too.

 

“ _Harry_ —“

 

The annoyance was clear as day on Dudley’s face. Their conversation was going south before it had really begun. Harry pulled at the collar of his shirt. He suddenly felt like he was suffocating in the small room.

 

“It’s just so easy when they’re young, right? Then they grow up and voices deepen and hair grows in places and things _chafe_ ,” he blubbered.

 

Dudley gave him a confused look. “Right.”

 

“And then,” Harry continued, “you’re expected to explain things to them that you can’t quite explain yourself.”

 

Dudley leaned back into his chair and placed his thick arms behind his head.

 

“Such as?”

 

“Such as…” Harry lowered his voice to barely above a whisper and leaned closely towards Dudley, not wanting anyone to overhear. “ _Intercourse_.”

 

Dudley blanched. “Intercourse?”

 

Harry pulled away from him and ran a nervous hand through his messy dark hair. “Sex. I’m talking about sex. Dudley, how do you explain that one?”

 

Dudley stared at Harry quietly. He opened his mouth and then closed it twice, no words coming out. He clapped his hands together and then pointed at Harry.

 

“Right. Well, there comes a point in a mans life when someone he looks up to and trusts gives him the talk,” he said, struggling with his words.

 

Harry watched as Dudley sat up in his chair, a sudden air of confidence about him.

 

“Exactly,” he exclaimed. “The talk!”

 

Dudley raised a hand to silence him. “And though that usually happens at a _much_ younger age I suppose _your people_ age at a different rate.”

 

Harry gasped in surprise and placed a nervous hand to his chest. His heart was beating erratically. “You think I’ve waited too long?”

 

He didn’t want to imagine his son roaming Hogwarts and bedding any of the girls in his year or above. He was too young. Too innocent. It felt like only yesterday he was teaching James to fly a broom, levitate an object and tie his first tie. He didn’t want to think of his child as a sexual deviant.

 

“It’s not _too_ late.”

 

Harry sighed with relief. “Thank heavens. I was really nervous there.”

 

A ghost of a smile appeared on Dudley’s lips. He was clearly amused by his uneasiness.

 

“So, what do you say?” Harry questioned.

 

“Well, you see, when a man loves a woman they become _intimate_ ,” his cousin said slowly, “and sometimes a child comes from that intimacy.”

 

Harry furrowed his brow. His explanation wasn’t very helpful. Intimate could mean so many different things.

 

“That’s just general and confusing. _Define_ intimate.”

 

Dudley stared blankly at Harry. “How can I explain this to you in a way you’ll understand. Let’s see…”

 

Harry watched his cousin, who was deep in thought.

 

“Alright, let’s say you have been seeing a woman for awhile and you develop feelings for her.”

 

Harry nodded his head. He liked where this was going. It sounded very age appropriate. “I suppose that’s reasonable.”

 

Dudley grinned, thrilled he could finally make a connection with his cousin.

 

“Yes!” he shouted with excitement. “You’ve brought her out to dinner and maybe you’ve had a few drinks. The conversation is easy and she smiles at you and then you feel a stirring.”

 

Harry wrinkled his nose. “A stirring?”

 

At this point Dudley was sweating profusely, nervous to get to the more intimate aspects of the conversation.

 

“It’s like a fire lights up inside of you and you have this urge that you just can’t fight and your body…well, it responds to it…”

 

Harry gulped and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. They were starting to reach awkward territory.

 

“I think I’m confused.”

 

His cousin sighed with frustration and clapped his hands together.

 

“How can I…okay.”

 

He reached for a pen and a piece of blank paper on his desk and started scribbling something. Harry leaned over hesitantly. He squinted and once he could make out what the photo was, he threw himself back in his chair, horrified.

 

“What are you…I _know_ what that appendage looks like! Good heavens,” he said, blushing furiously, “no!”

 

Dudley dropped his black ball point pen and flipped the paper over hastily.

 

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, ears red. “I wasn’t sure what you knew or felt or—“

 

“Dudley!” Harry shouted with horror. “I want to give _James_ the sex talk. I know all about sex.”

 

His cousin stared at him in surprise.

 

“You do?”

 

Harry groaned. “I have three kids. Of course _I_ know about sex.”

 

“I just assumed your kind might have a different approach,” he admitted quietly. Harry gaped at him.

 

“You seriously think I wave my wand around and a kid appears.”

 

“Well,” Dudley said unashamed, “you’ve done an awful lot with magic.”

 

“This was a mistake.”

 

Dudley ignored him. “Or you make a potion in that cauldron of yours.”

 

Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Though he should not have been surprised. His cousin after all wasn’t well versed in magic.

 

“I can’t just make a baby. What kind of ingredients…never mind!” he shouted completely annoyed.

 

Dudley was redder than a tomato and was sweating profusely. “Good heavens, I thought magic was useful for something. Alright, alright. My mistake. Forgive me.”

 

Harry had to stop himself from whipping out his wand and showing his cousin just how useful magic could be. If he hadn’t been so desperate and floored by that sudden revelation he would have stormed right out of the house but as they say: desperate times call for desperate measures.

 

Ginny would have quite the laugh when he told her about this later.

 

“How did Vernon talk to you about sex?”

 

At the mention of his father Dudley chortled loudly. “Oh well, huh, that’s a funny….story,” he said breathlessly. “Right-o. Well, he put in a good effort and then gave me my first beer.”

 

Harry scowled at his cousin. “I’m not giving my very underage son alcohol.” Even if the idea _had_ crossed his mind. Ginny would have his head.

 

“You might need one for yourself.”

 

“Dudley—“

 

Dudley scowled at the harshness of Harry’s tone. “Alright, alright. You know my father wasn’t exactly a ladies man. He _tried_. Lord, he tried, but he couldn’t even mutter the word. Kept going on about appendages and what not. He just handed me a pamphlet in the end.”

 

Harry stared at Dudley with confusion. “A pamphlet?”

 

His cousin rolled his eyes and started to open and close drawers in his desk, rummaging around for some papers.

 

“Well goodness Harry, if you know what sex is in your world you must know what a bloody pamphlet is. Here.”

 

He slid a blue pamphlet towards Harry. It looked a bit worn as if it had been read thoroughly throughout the years. He whistled as some of the words started to jump out at him. There was a very detailed diagram of a naked bloke and his… _ah_ …appendages.

 

Harry blushed and closed the pamphlet, eyes falling on Dudley. His cousin shook his head with an amused grin on his face.

 

“I thank God everyday I had girls.”

 

* * *

 

 

Feeling slightly irritated and extremely hungry, Harry found himself back home later the same day. The pamphlet his cousin had gifted him was burning a hole in his pocket. Harry knew he wouldn’t be able to get anything done for the rest of the day if he didn’t speak to James.

 

The moment he walked through the front door his daughter, Lily, bombarded him. She threw her skinny arms around his legs and squeezed him tightly. Harry felt some of the dread release from his tense body. At least his little girl wasn’t growing up too soon.

 

“Lily, where is James? I need to speak with him.”

 

Her green eyes shined with mischief and she grabbed his hand, pulling him through the living room, past the kitchen and towards their backyard. Harry stumbled behind her, his nerves kicking in again as he spotted his sons flying on their brooms.

 

“ _JAMES! YOU’RE IN TROUBLE!”_ Lily shouted from the ground.

 

She dropped her fathers’ hand and waved at her brothers who were flying just above the ground. Harry watched as James turned red and quickly hopped off his broom with ease. He shoved past his sister and walked nervously towards Harry, a look of determination in his eyes.

 

“What did I do now?” he whined. “I swear Lily is—“

 

Harry cut him off before he could continue. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just need to talk to you. Let’s have a seat in the kitchen.”

 

James sighed behind his father and followed him into the kitchen. They took a seat at the wooden table that was in the middle of the room, Harry grabbed a lone red apple that was left forgotten on the table and tossed it from hand to hand trying to quell some of his nerves.

 

“I wanted to talk to you about the other day. I know what you saw was startling and I’m sure it was confusing,” he said nervously.

 

James couldn’t look him in the eye but his father didn’t miss his sigh of relief.

 

“I guess,” he muttered.

 

“Good,” Harry replied. “I mean…it’s not good that you’re confused but it’s good we can be open with each other.” Harry mentally cursed himself for sounding like a complete tool.

 

James scrunched his nose and finally glanced at his sweating father. “Dad, you’re acting weird.”

 

Harry grinned. “I know. This isn’t easy for me. You know I didn’t have parents growing up. I didn’t have a father to sit me down and explain things to me about my growing body and the changes I was going through.”

 

His son nodded and gave him a grim smile. His children knew all about his tough upbringing. They didn’t know every single horrifying detail but they knew enough to give their father a pass whenever he became a little too involved in their everyday lives.

 

“Is this about the fact that Aunt Hermione told mum I smell?”

 

Harry gave him a confused look. He really thought they were on the same page.

 

“What?” he asked.

 

James groaned in frustration. “I’ve been scrubbing really hard. I _swear_ I’m showering!” he exclaimed.

 

Harry gave his son a tentative thumbs up because he wasn’t sure how to respond to that. His wife would have to clue him in on that conversation later.

 

“Uh, okay. Great job, son.”

 

He was failing miserably at this.

 

“But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. I wanted to talk to you about sex,” he said flatly.

 

James’s brown eyes widened and his mouth formed into an ‘O.’

 

“Sex,” he mused.

 

Harry cringed. He didn’t like hearing the word come out of his mouth. The pamphlet Dudley gave him suddenly felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket. He tried to recall what his cousin had said to him in his study just a mere two hours ago.

 

“You see, when two people love each other they have sex. Do you follow?” he questioned.

 

James shot out of his chair faster than a snitch zooming in the air. He placed his hands on his ear and gaped at his father.

 

“ _Dad,”_ he said completely horrified, “I know _all_ about sex. We really don’t have to do this.”

 

Harry sighed with relief. He felt like a weight had suddenly been lifted off his shoulders.

 

“You do? How?”

 

James rolled his eyes and removed his hands from his ears. “Of course I do. I’m _fifteen_ after all. I learned all about it from Uncle Neville.”

 

Harry made a mental note to send Neville a fruit basket at a later date.

 

“Uncle Neville?” he questioned, flabbergasted.

 

James nodded and sat back down in his seat. “I figured he told you what happened.”

 

Harry’s heart stopped. Was his son having sex? It was his worst nightmare. His son was having sex and he was learning all about it from his good friend. Forget the fruit basket, Harry was going to have Neville fired for encouraging his son to hop into his four-poster bed with a young girl.

 

“You know…he caught me and Hugo in a broom cupboard.” Harry inhaled nervously as his son rubbed the back of his neck. “We wanted to know how girls get boobs. Hugo found a pink _brassiere_ , as Uncle Neville called it, and we were…you know…trying it on. He set us straight after he found us lurking around the girls bathroom and gave us the…well…talk…Hugo had a lot of questions,” he said sheepishly.

 

Harry felt overheated. He was sure he was on fire. He could not believe what he was hearing. He pursed his lips and thought with amusement how Ron would handle this story. He suddenly felt accomplished as a parent.

 

Harry stood up and pushed his chair back, giving his son a big grin.

 

“Great! So then we’re good here, yeah?”

 

He wanted to run off and hide for the rest of the day. Harry figured he had done enough parenting for the rest of the year or at least the summer. Ginny could handle everything related to their kids from now on.

 

His son gave him an uneasy look and dropped his head into his hands, averting his gaze from his father once again. Harry felt his heart drop in his chest. He really couldn’t handle much more.

 

“Yeah, except…well…” he mumbled something to himself that Harry couldn’t quite catch.

 

“Well, what? If you have a question I can answer it,” he said in a high pitched voice.

 

“There is one…”

 

“Alright.”

 

Harry waited impatiently for his son to ask his question. James looked up at his father with a puzzled expression.

 

“Why do you keep your socks on?”

 

Harry groaned.

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: I wrote probably the first five hundred words to this story a few months ago but could never figure out where exactly I wanted to go with this. Inspiration struck when I was reading ‘After Destiny’ by CambAngst. We have two totally completely stories but I guess reading about Harry and Ginny getting it on helped me out here. I am blushing as I write this note. Ha-ha. Awkward. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this extremely long story. I feel for Harry. I do. Let me know what you think about the story in a comment below!


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